Crossing Lines
by Hanae da Firefly
Summary: Pursuits, be it of the scholarly or the romantic kinds, can be fulfilled with the right state of mind. Leisure time, however, shouldn't be wasted on pursuits that don't amount to much when they can be spent with someone else. One shot, graphic end. [CL]


**Crossing Lines**

Words: 1 790  
Genre: Spiritual/Romance, I think.  
Pairing(s): Cloud x Leon  
Notes: Birthday fic for my dear, darling Kelly. This is a slight play on how we'd start rambling to each other in completely different languages. Hers being French. :D  
Warnings: Suggestive themes  
Rated: NC-17

* * *

Lazily flicking through the pages of a tattered old book that contained aged, yellowed pages and a handful of silverfish that nibbled delicately on the frayed spine, Leon briefly glanced at a diagram that had been etched in on one page with thick, blotted ink that was seeping into the thin paper. 

He was at the desk that Merlin had so mercifully conjured into the room he was to be staying in. Leaning back in his chair so much so that his entire weight was being supported only by the two back legs of the furniture, Leon had both his legs on the edge of the small table, ankles crossed. He had discarded his belts and gloves alongside his jacket in a small heap by the doorway, beside his sword.

He had taken great liberties on his day off to relax. He didn't mind the company of the others, but he appreciated this rare moment of solitude now and again. Rebuilding Hollow Bastion was arduous and time-consuming. They'd done a good job thus far, and Sora's help was certainly valuable as the rest of the committee had their hands full with the welfare of the Hollow Bastion residents as well as the state of the construction equipment.

Reading was good. It could be done alone or with others, and was a great way of wasting the hours whilst being somewhat productive. It helped keep brain cells constantly rejuvenated and kept the mind sharp, imagination free. Books were good for playing out cheesy stories and dreams that a regular adult couldn't reveal publicly without receiving some snorts or sympathetic looks. Depending on what you were reading, it could be fun or sad or dramatic. All you had to do was put things in perspective.

No, wait. Ignore the drama. There was enough drama in the worlds as it was already.

Leon sighed, raking a hand through his hair. He didn't want to start worrying about Sora and the state of the other worlds. He wanted to relax. To _read_. That was the purpose of a day off. Irately, he let out another sigh – this one a little more annoyed – and shut the book, tossing it onto the desk. He tilted to the side, groping the pile of hardcover books on the carpeted floor by his chair and picked one up, ignoring the mess of the toppled heap as a result of his blind fumbling.

Settling into his chair once again, Leon scanned the title with a touch of unfamiliarity and touched the cover briefly, running his finger down the worn leather. It was in a foreign language. And, if his memory still proved him right, it was French. Leon recalled in the haze of his mind that he had been rather fluent in French once upon a time, way back when he had been the orphan pre-pubescent Squall who had been a diligent student at the castle. With a little curiosity, Leon flipped past the title and index to a page that contained only one phrase, like a quotation that would only make sense at the end of the book.

Right. He could do it. He just had to remember not to stress that last syllable too much, like he used to get whacked for.

"L'homme développe, perfectionne ou déprave mais il ne crée rien."

"Well, that's a pity. "

Startled, Leon tore his gaze away from the book and looked up at a rather unimpressed blond man. He had so been engrossed in getting his translation of the phrase right that he hadn't even realized Cloud's entrance.

Cloud raised a fine brow, strangely enough, in understanding as he frowned at the brunet.

"I've been in here for the past 3 hours."

Leon winced inwardly. He was growing rusty. 3 hours and he hadn't even noticed his being there? Or maybe Cloud was good at not being detected? No, it was probably his lack of focus. That was dangerous. There could have been an attack and he could have just been sitting down, reading pleasantly to himself until he drifted off to sleep while the others were struggling to defend the city.

Dryly, Leon cleared his throat and returned his gaze to the book, ignoring the look of contempt that Cloud shot him.

"L'homme développe, perfectionne ou déprave mais il ne crée rien," he repeated once again, this time a little more fluently. Pausing, the older man looked up at the blond thoughtfully, recalling his rather unprompted response. "It's French. Do you understand it?"

Cloud dropped his gaze before turning away to stare out the window. Light flecks of white were floating downwards, covering everything in a fine layer of powdery snow. The sky was a smouldering swirl of mixed white and grey shades. He exhaled through his nose slowly, gaze hardened and lips twisted into a stern frown.

"I don't understand French, but I know that quote. The person who said it," Cloud turned to stare at Leon straight in the eye. "What do you think of him?"

Shrugging off the discomfort he was feeling as a result of the conversation as well as Cloud's mood, Leon coughed lightly, carefully avoiding Cloud's eyes.

"I don't know the person personally, but. . . I agree. Man doesn't truly create anything, even though he's been progressive. Millenniums pass, yet we're still killing each other, robbing one another, waging wars and playing dirty politics."

He heard Cloud snort and looked up once again, shooting the blond a sharp, unappreciative look. At that, Cloud merely raised his head and stared right back in challenge, disposition cold and indifferent. Leon growled lowly in response, but held himself back at the other man's obstinacy.

"Are you mocking me, Strife?" He asked frostily, tone quiet and quivering. He felt uncharacteristically defensive and felt annoyed at the fact that Cloud was trying to pick a fight with him on the one day he had resolved not to fight, be it verbally or physically.

Cloud shrugged, the slight curl at the edge of his lips wiped off completely as his expression softened immensely and grew downcast. Now, he had no masks. He was just. . . neutral.

"Such passionate pessimism from someone in charge of rebuilding a world," he merely responded, eyes flickering upwards, meeting Leon's. "Man develops, perfects, or depraves, but he creates nothing? You obviously haven't been working at the construction site enough."

Leon merely let out an irritated 'humph' and returned to his book, trying to ignore the feeling of relief that washed through him at Cloud's reply.

The minutes edged on silently. Leon was completely immersed, glad that he hadn't completely lost his touch in the French language. The story and the play on words enraptured him, and just as it was getting good, he felt someone leaning forward against his back and deftly plucking it out of his hands, dog-earing the page and tossing it to the side. Just as he opened his mouth to retaliate, the blond man beat him to it completely.

"Get naked and get on the bed. Now."

Leon grew stiff, completely freezing at that. He stared up at Cloud, lips parted in disbelief as he blinked incredulously at the man, unable to speak.

The irritated expression returned to Cloud's face and he scowled irately.

"It's English. Do you understand it?" He replied sarcastically, already pulling Leon out of his seat and throwing him down onto the bed. In one fluid movement, Cloud was already straddling Leon, ripping his shirt off and nimbly undoing the catches of his trousers. Leon snapped out of the delirious haze fogging his mind and curled his hands around Cloud's forearms and struggled weakly below the younger man's rather powerful ministrations.

"Look. . . all I wanted. . . was to goddamn _read_. . .God, don't do it. . . stop touching there. . . Cloud! Stop, for crying out loud!"

With a grunt, Cloud stopped moving, glaring heatedly at Leon.

"If," he said deliberately, interrupting whatever protest Leon had to offer, "You are going to nag me with a short lecture on your intellectual pursuits, I only have this to say: for an intelligent man, I don't think you're very smart. You see, smart people – namely what _you_ are aspiring to be – do not ignore me continuously for 5 hours for some books. Especially when you groped me this morning. Repeatedly. 'Unconsciously', as you so aptly like to offer. Now," Cloud sat up straighter, his hands still firmly stuck in place at the button and zipper of his trousers, and grounded down agonizingly slowly. Just enough to get Leon a teeny bit turned on.

"As we are both grown up adults with rational, logically thinking minds when it comes to making decisions. I am going to offer you a deal," Cloud said leisurely, taking his time.

"Either you help me in undressing both of us within the next _5 seconds_ or you will be confined to the couch for a month. And I shall not cook for our domestic welfare in that period of time. Also, I shall plant niggardly objects in your clothing and armour, just for kicks. I might also destroy half of the books you have borrowed from Merlin and frame you for it."

Leon's eyebrows knitted together, his lips pressed together to form a firm line.

"Take your damned pick, Leon, for there is no third or fourth option. It's either or. A or B. Fucking deal with it. And I do mean _right now_," Cloud ended with a touch of venom, eyes narrowing dangerously.

Leon swallowed slightly, his hands gripping Cloud's uncertainly before relaxing and sliding down weakly, conceding. Satisfied, a smug smirk curled at Cloud's lips and he dipped down to plant a brief peck on the brunet's lips, highly amused at the slight glower in Leon's expression. It would be wiped away soon enough.

"I'm glad we have an understanding," Cloud said pleasantly, ripping the zip downwards and sliding his hand below the waistband of Leon's boxers, growing all the more smug at the slight, involuntary shiver that trembled through Leon's body. He gripped the man's erection firmly and pulled it out of the confines of his clothing.

"This," he said breathily, his lips inches away from Leon's arousal, his hot breath whispering over it teasingly, causing the dark-haired man to clench his fists into the sheets below him, "means you are horny."

Leon groaned weakly, writhing a little as Cloud began to massage the base, pumping him in steady motions. With a faint smile on his face, Cloud licked his lips, leaning over and resting his mouth against Leon's ear, muttering the last coherent thing both of them would say for the rest of the day.

"Do you understand it?"

* * *

French quote taken from Antoine FABRE D'OLIVET. It means 'Man develops, perfects, or depraves, but he creates nothing' if you didn't know it already.


End file.
